


I’ll Be There

by glovesthegays



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Forgive her, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mild Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Multi, OC tries to save everyone and i don’t know if i want her to succeed or not, POV First Person, Self-Insert, Wizard bashing, Work In Progress, but like we been knew he’s a manipulative lil bitch, cause those fuckers are just plain stupid sometimes, everyone is a little bit mentally unstable, honestly the plan is to stay mostly canon but we’ll see how that goes, idk cause some people don’t like that, kind of, let’s be real here kids, the Grangers have good intentions but bad results, theyre trying to be good parents but they’re just not there enough, uhhhh author does not know What The Fuck she’s doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glovesthegays/pseuds/glovesthegays
Summary: I died February 12th, 2018. Pandora Granger was born February 12th, 1978. Coincidence? Apparently not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for clicking on this fic! It’s my first in the HP fandom, and I’m very excited, because I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while. The update schedule is definitely going to be sketchy, since I’m in school, but I’ll try my best to update as soon as quickly as I can. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own, and nothing belongs to me except the OCs.

Childhood(1978-1989) 

I knew it was stupid, and yet I did it anyways. It was my life story, or rather, my death story. I lay coughing up blood in the middle of the road, eyes wide yet unseeing. I felt like I was floating, almost, as I breathed my last breath. 

Everything was dark, and then it wasbrightbrightbrightcoldcoldcoldcoldcold- I screamed and screamed and screamed until the moment I was set down on something, someone, warm. I was alive, I was okay. But how could that be? I remembered dying. I shouldn’t be here. Unless resurrection was a thing, but then why could I remember my past life so vividly? 

I felt a soft hand on my cheek, feeling only safety and love radiating off of the body holding me. Focusing to what was in front of me, I was able to take in some of my surroundings. Above me and holding me we’re a man and a woman, respectively. They were grinning at me, and then each other, and back to me. 

“She’s perfect, Rosie. Absolutely beautiful.” The man was my father, I assumed. He had large, kind eyes, a warm smile, and soft, olive skin. “What should we call her?” 

The woman– my mother– smiled down at me, stroking my cheek softly once again. “Pandora. Pandora Grace Granger. My beautiful little girl.” 

Though the name set off warning bells in my mind, I chose to ignore it in favour of the overwhelming fatigue that washed over me. Dying and getting birthed again can really take the piss out of you. 

—

Toddler-hood fell upon me in the blink of an eye. It was an exciting time, because I was finally able to start understanding things. 

The funny thing with reincarnation is that I have memories of doing things, but I have no fucking clue how to learn to do them. It was a pain in the ass if I’ve ever had one.

I knew that I could count and do math, but I could not for the life of me remember what the hell the things you counted were called, much less what they actually were. I could remember talking, but I couldn’t properly form sounds that could pass off as words. Walking was the worst of all. I could remember playing sports, taking pets for walks, running up stairs at school, but I could not fucking figure out how to walk. 

That’s why, after the first two years in this body, when I could start putting words together, and not only walk, but run, I was absolutely ecstatic. 

Just over four months before I was due to turn three (two year olds are very self centred, I’d found, so knowing things about myself was essential to my toddler-brain), my mom gave birth to a baby girl. I was excited beyond belief, really. I’d had a sister in my past life, but we weren’t close. My two brothers I were close with, and though I’d loved them both immensely, boys were exhausting to have to entertain. 

My grandmother led me into the hospital room where my mum and dad had been staying with my sister. I ran to my parents; I’d missed them. Sure, Grandma Jean was fun, but toddlers have very short attention spans, and the only thing they love more than themselves are their parents. I wasn’t any different. 

My mum was holding my sister in her arms, and dad lifted me up onto the bed so I could get a good look at her. She looked a lot like me, though I guess that’s to be expected. We had the same warm, golden-brown skin, though hers was a little lighter, taking after our father. Her eyes were the same deep brown as mine, and our hair was the same; dark, curly, and unruly like our mother’s. 

“Who that?” I asked, poking the baby’s tummy. 

“That’s your sister sweetheart.” My father replied softly. “That’s Hermione.” 

My adult brain jumped into overdrive. It was an oh shit moment if I’ve ever had one. This must’ve been just a really weird coincidence. There’s no way that my little sister was the Hermione Granger. The ones from the stories my mum used to tell me before bed in my last life? The one that is the cleverest witch of her age? Oh god. I didn’t believe it, but as I heard my mum tell my grandma that Hermione’s middle name was Jean, for her, I realized (with a slight pang of exhaustion) that it must be true. I knew having my past memories wasn’t just a fluke. I must be here for a reason.

Staring down at my baby sister, an overwhelming urge to protect her came over me. If my sister was who I thought she was, she was going to go through hell and back, and all before she turned 18. 

Toddler brains moved fast and without much reason. 

I put my small hand on her smaller cheek. “I keep bad guys away, Ah-mi-oh-nee. Promise.”

A blueish white glow came out of my chubby little hand and dissolved into my sister’s cheek. My mum gasped loudly, and my dad immediately grabbed my hand to inspect it. My grandmother however, sat calmly on the bed beside my parents and quelled all of their fears. 

When I had better speech capabilities I needed to remember to talk with her about what and why she knew about magic. 

Just over a month after Hermione’s second birthday, I woke up to owls flying all over, and I knew that James and Lily Potter had been killed, and the Boy Who Lived was born. 

—

Except for the magic bit, my childhood passed the same as any other. Primary school was a breeze, mostly because I had gone through it before, also because the Granger family seemed to have particularly intelligent genes. 

Our parents put a lot of pressure on us to be the best, which was really hard on Hermione. I, being mentally adult, and having gone through many years of higher education and parent pressure, knew how to deal with it, but she took it all to heart. If someone else got better marks than her in school, she would cry for hours. I understood why she acted the way she did in those first few years of hogwarts a lot better now. 

As it turned out, Grandma Jean had a brother who was a wizard, and a cousin that was a witch. That explained why both Hermione and I were witches. Usually it’s just a fluke, like with Lily and Petunia Evans. Unlike them, our family had produced wizards before. I had a feeling there were others. That was something to look into when I got to school.

As for Grandma Jean’s brother, she said he was a teacher at the ‘magic school’ and taught the kids there ‘all about us non-magical folk’. The muggle studies professor. 

She told me that her parents had disowned him. Her dad’s sister had married a wizard (that’s where the cousin came from) and they didn’t get along with them (her words, not mine. I suspected that it was much worse than them simply not getting along). Out of all their 8 siblings, Grandma Jean said she was the only one to seek him out after she left home. She and Charlie had always been close, being the two eldest. 

One sunny summer day when I was 6 and Hermione was 4, Grandma Jean brought my sister and I to meet our Uncle Charlie. We met him at Grandma Jean’s house; a smaller flat near where me and my parents lived. He was a kind old man, if not eccentric, but I figured all wizards were. He was average height, with grey hair and olive skin like my dad. He brought us wizard sweets, like chocolate frogs (which actually hopped!) and cockroach clusters and fudge flies, to both mine and Hermione’s delight. Due to this, and the fact that he answered all of our never-ending questions about Hogwarts and magic, he was an instant hit for the Granger sisters. 

As we got older, he would bring along books with the sweets when we saw him. Mostly small children’s novels, and books about the various magical animals, which had moving pictures! I had never been so excited for anything in my life (lives?). They were absolutely beautiful. 

Sometimes, if we were lucky, he would charm our teddy bears so his voice would come out of them, or make our eyebrows go wild colours, and we would laugh until our sides hurt. 

As I got older, I also had to face the fact that the adult inside me was going to be have to be in control more often. Most of the time, I had just let my child-brain do most of the work, so I didn’t do anything suspicious, and so I didn’t have to face my old memories. I’d had a family before, and I missed them, but if I dwelled I would cry, so I suppressed. 

However, that strategy might not work in the coming years. Hogwarts was going to be a whole other beast. I hadn’t figured out what the hell I was going to do about Dumbledore and Snape both being very skilled Legilimens. I had some pretty damn sensitive information in my head, and I could not afford anyone I didn’t want in there to see it. They could both be trusted, I guess, but I didn’t know if I actually wanted to become a pawn to be used in Dumbledore’s game. I had to learn Occlumency somehow, and I didn’t know if Hogwarts had the books I needed to learn it on my own. I might have to ask for help, and that was the last thing I wanted. However, if it came down to Dumbledore versus Voldemort knowing my secrets, I’d choose Dumbledore all the way. 

I hadn’t figured out what the hell I was going to do about Voldemort being in the school Hermione’s first year. It made me sick to my stomach at the thought of her getting hurt at all. And the basilisk? My sister was going to be literally fucking petrified. But, I decided, I needed to take the challenges as they came. Change as little as I possibly could. I knew she would be okay, but this could be an entirely different timeline where things went completely differently. I guess I would just have to trust that they wouldn’t be. 

Jesus Christ, or I guess, Merlin. This was going to be one hell of a ride.


	2. And So It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! This chapter has our introduction to the wizarding world, and some of our other characters. 
> 
> I already had this chapter mostly done, so that’s why it’s going up so early. I’ll probably be updating weekly or bi-weekly from now on. 
> 
> I don’t own anything except the ocs.

On my eleventh birthday, my hogwarts letter arrived. Even though I knew I was a witch, I was still nervous that it wouldn’t come. It was irrational, obviously, but eleven year olds are anything but rational. 

It came, and it was wonderful. Something I’d been wanting since I was young in my first life. 

I went shopping for my school supplies with Uncle Charlie and Hermione. He’d told my parents not to worry about the cost, even though being dentists they were quite well off, and refused any attempts at paying him back. 

Gringotts was amazing, and confusing. For the most part, the goblins were secretive and distrusting, but given the opportunity to gloat, they talked your ear off; a fact Uncle Charlie had shown Hermione and I with unabashed amusement. 

I would have to read up more on the wizard bank. I’d like to be of some help to the Golden Trio when they had to break in for the horcrux. Maybe I could do it for them; stop them from being even bigger wanted criminals. 

Uncle Charlie reading my list brought me out of my reverie. First things first. I wasn’t even at Hogwarts yet. 

“Madam Malkins for the robes first I think. Then we can make our way to get the cauldron and such, and then perhaps you can go get your wand while your sister and I get your books. Of course, we mustn’t forget an owl.” Uncle Charlie continued on, listing off what I would need a little nervously as we made our way towards the robe shop. 

Diagon Alley was packed. This was apparently the day to do your back to school shopping, and Uncle Charlie wanted to give us the “full experience”. Mostly, I just felt out of place. 

Hermione wasn’t really paying attention to the bustling streets; she mostly looked put out that she wasn’t the one getting to do the shopping, and I suppose I would be too. I was glad I wasn’t born the younger sibling. 

“Two more years, ‘Mione, then it’ll be your turn.” 

She gave a small, dejected nod. “I know. I just wish it would come sooner!” I agreed. 

“I’d feel much better if I didn’t have to be alone in a strange new place.” I nudged her with my elbow. “We all know you’re the smart one, not to mention the brave one. What am I going to do without you?” The last sentence I wailed dramatically. This made my sister smile. I linked my arm in hers, and lowered my voice conspiratorially. “I think I saw an ice cream place a few blocks down. We can definitely get Uncle Charlie to buy us some after our long day.” I returned my voice to normal. ”And, we get to go to an actual magical bookshop!” That returned a genuine look of excitement to Hermione’s face. 

I should have just led with the books. 

After what felt like forever in Madam Malkins, and an even longer intermission to get my ‘cauldron and such’, it was finally time for me to get my wand. Uncle Charlie seemed to think that this was a private moment I should have, so after assuring me I could take a look around Flourish and Blotts once I was done, I was off to Ollivander’s. 

On my way, I observed the witches and wizards bustling around the streets. So far, I hadn’t seen anyone that I’d recognized, just a sea of robes and a few pointy hats. There were little kids staring in the windows of the sweet shops, and all ages looking at the newest broom models. I realized about halfway through my wander that I really didn’t know where I was going. Uncle Charlie had given me directions, but I had gotten sidetracked looking at the Alley, and had forgotten them entirely. 

Across the way, I saw a gang of gangly redheads, and my heart skipped. I’d done a age chart of everyone I knew a while back, and I’d quickly realized that during my first year at Hogwarts, I’d have five out of seven Weasleys. Bill was the oldest, of course. He had long hair pulled back in a way that was almost Lucius Malfoy-esque, though Bill made it look effortlessly cool even at seventeen. An image of the large scar that tore across his face in the future made it’s way, uninvited, into my head. I diverted my attention. 

Charlie looked so much like I’d imagine an older Ron, I actually had to do a double take. He was all perfectly messy hair and goofy smiles as he held his two youngest sibling’s hands in the busy streets. You could see how much they idolized him. Even Percy, who was hanging back from his bustling family with his nose in a book, seemed to look at Charlie with admiration as he talked animatedly with Ron and Ginny. 

Percy was especially gangly at thirteen, the dignified air he tried to emit coming off as quite silly when paired with messy hair and too-big robes. Molly and Arthur walked just ahead of Percy, hand in hand. They both looked tired, but happy. A pang of sadness ran through me, realizing they were enjoying their last years of true peace. 

The twins ran ahead of of their family, grinning at each other devilishly, no doubt planning their latest prank on Ron or Percy. They were a little chubbier than their siblings, though I knew they would grow out of it. The messiness of their hair could have rivalled Harry’s, though I suspected it was less genetics and more the fact that their parents really couldn’t wrangle them to do much. 

My throat constricted as I remembered the way that this family cried over Fred’s body in that final battle. I quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. Sparing one last glance at the Weasley family, I spotted another kind face that could help me on my way. 

“Excuse me, sir?” I pulled on the sleeve of the half giant who had just come out of the shop a few feet ahead of me. By his side was a little blonde girl, very obviously muggleborn, and I assumed first year. She had wide blue eyes, porcelain skin, and looked like she was trying very hard to hold herself with confidence. 

“‘Ello there miss! What can I do for ye?” The welcoming smile he gave me made me feel at home. No wonder Harry had taken an immediate shine to Hagrid. 

“Well, I was on my way to Ollivander’s for my wand, but I seem to have gotten myself lost. I was just wondering if you could point me in the right direction?” 

“Ah-“ He nodded like he’d seen this a million times before. “I’ll do you one better. Cheryl an’ I were jus’ on our way there.” He gestured for the blonde-Cheryl- and I to follow him. 

“The name’s Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys an’ Grounds for Hogwarts. This ‘ere is Cheryl Evans. You an’ ‘er will be in the same year. That is– you’ll be going into yer firs’ year?” I nodded vehemently. “So why are ye all by yerself miss-?” 

“Granger. Pandora Granger. I’m not all by myself. My Uncle Charlie and my sister are here with me, but ‘Mione wanted to go to the book shop, and Uncle Charlie gave me directions to the wand shop but I got distracted. Maybe you know him? He works at Hogwarts too.” I spewed out my words so nervously they sounded like one big word. Thankfully, Hagrid understood. Though, the girl to my right didn’t catch it all, and skewed her face in confusion. 

Hagrid gave a big, bellowing laugh. “O’ course you’re Pandora! Ol’ Charlie never stops goin’ on about you n yer sister. Glad to meet ya.” I smiled wide up at him. He had seemed the one of the only adults that had helped Harry without any ulterior motives. If I hadn’t liked him before, I adored him now. He was just kind. No ifs ands or buts. I loved it. 

I looked over at the girl beside me, nervously playing with her sleeve. “Overwhelming, isn’t it? Magic and everything. I’m not sure it really hit me until today.” 

She nodded, giving me a tight smile. She pinched at the skin on her arm. Anxious. I tried to calm my presence, like you do around kids. She seemed to relax a little, and we fell into a slightly awkward, but less tense silence. Luckily, Ollivander’s wasn’t all that far away. 

My breath caught as I stepped inside the wand-maker’s shop. It all felt very deja-vu. The old man that emerged from the piles of wands matched the aura of his store perfectly. Pale, intelligent eyes and white hair that stood up every which way. Yes, this man very much matched the dignified chaotic energy his establishment radiated. 

“Ah! Mr. Hagrid. Back with another batch of first years?” 

“Yessir. Cheryl Evans and Pandora Granger.” The half-giant gestured to us. We stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, both of us shifting and fiddling with clothing or jewelry. At least we were united in our anxiety. 

Ollivander looked at Cheryl studiously. “I’ll be right back. I think I have a good wand we can start you with, Miss Evans.” 

I sat silently as Cheryl tried out quite a few wands before landing on one that fit. I could see she was starting to get nervous. 

“Willow, unicorn hair, twelve and three quarter inch, solid flexibility.” Ollivander rattled off, as he’d been doing to the past while. 

Beautiful red sparks came cascading out of the wand, and Cheryl smiled happily. She paid for the wand, and the wandmaker moved his attention to me. 

“Now, Miss Granger, what shall we do with you?.” I tried to relax as the wandmaker examined me. Well, really, I did the only thing I could think of and examined him back. His eyes were sharp as they studied me. I wondered if he had a checklist he was going through in his mind, because it sure looked like it. 

He smirked a little and gestured for me to wait a moment. 

“Apple wood, unicorn hair, nine and a half inches, unyielding.” 

I looked at him nervously and gave a wave. When nothing happened, he took it back quickly. “No, no, that won’t do.” Muttering, he brought up another. 

“Pine, phoenix feather, thirteen inches, swishy.” 

Once again, I gave it a wave, though this time a drawer flew out of the desk in front of me. I put the wand down with a start. 

“Oh, absolutely not!” 

We tried a few more, but none produced more than a flicker or a box knocked off a shelf. Ollivander was away for longer the sixth time, but when he came back, he was smiling a little. 

“Maple, unicorn hair, ten and three quarter inch, solid flexibility.” 

As soon as my fingers touched the wand, I felt a connection like a warmth spreading through me. I smiled widely as I gave a wave and blue sparks burst out of the tip. 

“Wonderful wands, the both of you!” The old man clapped his hands together. “I have no doubt you will both become outstanding young witches.” 

I handed over the money to buy the wand, and Cheryl and I both thanked Ollivander. Soon after, I had bid farewell to Hagrid and Cheryl, with a promise to visit the former when I got to school, and I was on my way back to Flourish and Blotts to meet Uncle Charlie. 

The shop was stocked to the brim with books. I stared in wonder, thinking about how much I could learn from these shelves. ‘Mione was probably in heaven. I didn’t know if we’d be able to tear her away. 

I scanned the room for any sign of my sister or uncle, and finally settled on a head of bushy brown hair near the back of the room. I made my way over, taking care not to bump into any books, or other wizards. 

“‘Mione! Hermione! Hermione Granger!” I snapped my fingers in front of her face when she didn’t answer; too engrossed in what she was reading. She looked up, glaring at me. 

“Where’s Uncle Charlie?” Hermione shrugged. 

“He said he’d be back in a few minutes.” I settled next to my sister, sitting on the floor and looking over her shoulder to read what she was reading. We read Hogwarts: A History together until our uncle came back over. It made me smile to read the part about the ceilings in the Great Hall being enchanted, especially when Hermione expressed her amazement so profusely. 

Uncle Charlie came back over carrying the bag full of books, and smiling at Hermione and I. “Ready to go Dora?” I smiled and nodded sleepily. No matter how exciting this day was, it was ten times more tiring. My uncle smiled empathetically. “Only an owl left, and then we’re good to go.” 

The owl I picked out was a little brown screech owl called Maestro, since he liked to ‘talk’ the most out of his companions. He seemed to take a immediate shine to Hermione as well, nuzzling his head happily when she pet him. He was sweet, and I was sure we’d get along wonderfully. 

After Maestro, we got ice cream on the way out at my suggestion, and soon enough we were packing all our things into Uncle Charlie’s little car.

I drifted off to sleep easily that night, dreaming of magnificent castles and an endless stream of books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was a decent chapter. We’ll be going to Hogwarts next chapter, so the fun will truly begin. Thanks for reading!


End file.
